Coffee @ Midnight

some small town a few hours away that bella barely remembered the name of because at the time she hadn’t really thought it mattered. jacob had always been restless in this boyish sort of way, always talking about wanting to leave forks for a little while, wanting to see something bigger than rainy roads and broken trucks.

so bella hadn’t looked too deeply into it.

she remembered standing outside his house while he threw bags into the backseat of his truck, smiling at her like he always did.

“you’re seriously leaving me here alone with the vampires?” she teased lightly. jacob laughed instantly. “you’ll survive a few months without me, bells.”

and maybe that should’ve felt strange.

the way he said it.

because usually jacob acted like the idea of being away from her for even a few days physically pained him. usually he looked at her like she was the center of every room he walked into.

but bella had been distracted then.

edward had come back.

and whenever edward came back into her life, everything else blurred around the edges.

including jacob.

at first she barely noticed the distance growing between them because it happened in pieces too small to catch immediately.

his texts stopped coming first.

bella would send him something in the afternoon and not hear back until midnight. phone calls became shorter. quieter. sometimes she’d catch background noise she didn’t recognize behind his voice, laughter and music and once what sounded suspiciously like a girl teasing him about something before he abruptly hung up.

she remembered staring at her phone afterward feeling strangely irritated by it.

which was stupid.

jacob was allowed to have a life outside of her. wasn’t he?

except some ugly selfish part of bella had grown used to jacob revolving around her no matter what happened. no matter how many times she ran back toward edward, jacob always stayed. always waited.

until suddenly he didn’t and by the time bella fully realized it, summer was almost over.

their friendship had turned awkward somehow. conversations that once came naturally now had gaps inside them neither of them knew how to fill anymore.

then jacob came home.

except even that felt wrong immediately.

bella remembered pulling into la push after almost three weeks without seeing him, expecting things to settle back into place the second she did.

instead she found him distracted. he felt different yet still the same but there was something calmer about him now, something less desperate. the constant pull he used to have toward her had dimmed into something quieter and bella hated how quickly she noticed it.

he smiled when he saw her but it didn’t light him up anymore and for some reason that bothered her far more than it should’ve.

after that things only got stranger.

jacob started disappearing randomly again. sometimes bella wouldn’t hear from him for days at a time and when she did, he always sounded busy.

happy.

that part unsettled her most.

because jacob used to tell her everything. every stupid thought that crossed his mind, every little thing that happened during his day now it felt like entire pieces of his life were happening somewhere far away from her.

once bella called him late at night out of habit and he answered on the third ring sounding breathless.

“bella?” he said distractedly.

then softer.

muffled away from the phone.

“baby, hold on.”

baby.

bella remembered going completely still at the word.

her stomach twisted so sharply she almost felt embarrassed by it.

“are you with someone?” she asked before she could stop herself.

there had been silence for a second too long before jacob answered carefully.

“i’m on a skype call on my laptop.” he spat out quickly and then said noththing else.

bella told herself she didn’t care. she absolutely cared and after that, curiosity started rotting at her slowly because jacob never brought the girl up directly. not really. if bella asked vague questions, he’d shrug them off or change the subject entirely but somehow that only made her more irritated.

because why was he hiding her?

and worse.

why did it feel like he was protecting whatever this relationship was from bella specifically?

eventually the distance between them became impossible to ignore entirely. bella noticed it most whenever edward wasn’t around because jacob stopped trying to fill the space.

stopped chasing her attention. stopped looking wounded every time she chose someone else over him.

and maybe that should’ve made things easier.

instead it made bella feel strangely… untethered like something she assumed would always exist suddenly didn’t anymore.

so one rainy afternoon she found herself driving toward jacob’s garage without fully planning to.

she told herself she just missed her best friend. he barely looked at her when he saw her “hey, what’s up?” he asked working on the engine to this car, leaned over under the hood. that made her more annoyed, how could he be so nonchalant? did he even miss her. “you tell me” she sounded bitchy.

she knew she did but it didnt stop her from saying it as she dropped her bag onto one of the old chairs near the wall harder than necessary and the sharpness in her voice made jacob glance back up immediately.

confused.

“what?”

for a second bella just stared at him.

he looked the same.

same broad shoulders hunched over the car. same dark hair falling messily into his face. same grease smudged across his cheekbone from working all afternoon.

but somehow he felt different now.

quieter around her like there were pieces of him she no longer had access to and maybe she was reading too much into it but she couldn’t shake that feeling.

“you’ve been weird,” she finally said.

jacob blinked once before letting out a small breath through his nose, almost amused.

“weird?”

“yes, weird.” bella crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “you disappear for months, barely answer your phone anymore and every conversation feels like i’m interrupting something.”

his expression shifted slightly at that. “bella…”

“no, seriously.” she cut him off quickly before she lost momentum. “did i do something or are you just over being my friend now?” that finally made him stop working entirely.

the wrench clinked softly against the counter as jacob straightened up slowly “i’ve been busy.” the statement only makes her more upset, she ran a hand through her hair huffing at him “busy? with what?” he shrugged “life. i don’t know.” his laugh is dry like he wants to avoid this conversation more than anything but bella won’t let him off easy.

“jacob, you used to tell me everything..” she sounds genuinely hurt when she walks closer to him and for a moment jacob feels guilty. guilty for abandoning the girl that needed him but this girl… she wasn’t his and he had been sick of doing the boyfriend job for a girl who chose someone over him every time. “bella.” he didn’t know what to say “come on, aren’t you tired?”

she looks confused “with what?”

“you know..” he doesn’t wanna say it, because saying it makes it real. makes it final. makes it something he can’t take back. this whole thing between them, this cycle, this thing that kept looping back into itself no matter how many times he tried to step out of it.

him.

her.

edward.

a triangle he never agreed to be in but somehow always ended up standing inside of anyway.

the truth was, jacob had fallen in love and it wasn’t with bella. and it wasn’t complicated anymore the way it used to be in his head, it was just simple now, clean in a way that hurt less than staying tangled in something that never really chose him back.

and that clarity made everything else easier to walk away from.

“i’m not doing this anymore,” he says finally. bella’s face tightens immediately “doing what?”

his jaw clenches slightly, like he’s trying not to make it sound harsher than it already is. his hands flex once at his sides, a small restless movement like his body is already stepping out of the conversation before his feet do.

“all of it.”

a pause.

it hangs there between them, thick and unfinished, like he’s refusing to dress it up into something softer just to make it easier to swallow.

“i’m not waiting around for you anymore, bella.”

the words hit bella far too hard than she expects, like they land in her chest before her mind even catches up. she can feel it immediately, that slow, sinking realization that this isn’t him being emotional, this is him being certain.

she hates the way it sounds decided.

her breath catches slightly, and before she can stop herself she steps closer, placing a soft hand on his chest.

not forceful, not angry, just instinctive like she can still anchor him there if she tries hard enough. her palm presses against the warmth of him like that alone could rewind whatever has already started unraveling between them, like skin-to-skin contact is enough to undo distance.

“jacob…” her voice comes out quieter than she means it to, almost careful now, like she’s afraid of pushing him further away just by speaking too loud.

“you’re my best friend.” jacob almost wished the words sounded true from bella’s mouth like if they felt true he’d feel better about himself and this friendship. it wasn’t even about the romantic aspect anymore, jacob had found love but it was just about the fact that bella didn’t treat him much like a friend when edward was around. like their friendship only existed in spaces where she was lonely.

that’s when he steps back away from her hand, he’s quick to create distance between the two of them like she had some disease “you should go, bella.” he wiped his grease stained hands slowly against the rag hanging from his back pocket, avoiding her eyes for a second because looking directly at her right now just made something ugly twist in his chest.

she blinked at him immediately, hurt flashing across her face too fast to hide. “what?” but her being hurt didn’t hit him the same way it used to; he didn’t run to fix it, protect her because she was no longer his priority, his priority was on her way here and a part of him didn’t want bella to meet his new girlfriend.

bella only stared for a moment.

“my girlfriend’s a little of the jealous type.” he chuckled to himself softly but bella doesn’t find anything comical. maybe because some ugly part of her assumed jacob would always be there waiting. orbiting around her no matter how many times she pulled away from him. she hated herself for hating the idea of him with someone else.

and it’s the way he says it. girlfriend. he says it casually but with this unusual about of love, it was only the idea of what bella imagined she sounded like when she talked about edward. she didn’t know why she felt jealous, maybe because she did love jacob and in her heart she knew she also loved edward. she was just confused and before she was to make that decision within herself jacob already subtracted himself from the situation.

“since when do you have a girlfriend?” bella asked too quickly, pretending not to already know the details he had been fighting to keep to himself every time she had asked but jacob almost shyly shrugged at her like a boy with a crush as his lips curved into a soft smile. “a while.”

a while. bella could only assume he meant months.. months that they hadn’t talked besides awkward texts and ignored phone calls, months of him slowly disappearing while she’d been too wrapped up in edward and her own confusion to notice it happening in real time. suddenly, she felt left out like she was on the outside of a locked door of a room she was desperately fighting to get into.

“you could’ve told me.” she hates how her voice comes out weakly and for the first time jacob looks at her like actually looks at her and suddenly she can see how different he is. still the same jacob but with a different look in his eyes, that very specific light in his eyes that was once reserved for her had gone out. he just looked almost content.

“yeah, i guess i could’ve.” it didn’t sound like he meant it in a bad way but she felt it that way, her jaw tightening at his words because he seemed to have already made peace with the distance between them months ago while she was only now noticing it existed.

she knew she didn’t have a right to feel wronged but it didn’t stop her from feeling it. uncomfortably she crossed her arms over her chest suddenly the room felt too warm, thick with the smell of motor oil and rain drifting in from outside while jacob leaned back against the workbench watching her carefully and for the first time, bella couldn’t read him.

jacob used to look at her like every emotion sat directly on the surface.

now the space between them was too strong and she knew she was at fault for it but a part of her was to prideful to admit it, admit that she had been too busy chasing after edward to see jacob’s distance. “you didn’t think i deserved to know?” his eyebrows furrowed at “it wasn’t like that.” he sputters back quickly.

“then what was it like?” silence fills the area as he struggles to answer for a moment because the truth sounded bad out loud.

because there was no version of this conversation where bella walked away without realizing she had missed something important while she was busy looking somewhere else.

jacob looked down briefly, outside, tires crackled softly against gravel somewhere down the road and Bella caught the smallest change in him instantly. His attention flickered away from her without thinking, subtle but automatic, like part of him was already waiting for someone else. like he could sense his other half arriving.

her. bella comes to that conclusion very quickly once he stands up fully, his whole emotions changing from this awkwardness to nervousness, his hands wiping at the grease stain on his jeans as if it’d disappear if he rubbed hard enough. he suddenly cared about how he looked.

and that hurt bella in a way she wasn’t prepared for because jacob had never been nervous around her.

not like this.

never quietly anticipating someone’s arrival like his entire body recognized them before they even appeared and for a moment bella just watched him the realization settling ugly in her stomach as he began adjusting his clothes to look perfect in his own way.

“jacob?” bella called quietly when he stopped listening halfway through the conversation entirely.

he blinked once like he’d forgotten she was standing there before clearing his throat quickly. “sorry, i just…”

another crunch of gravel echoed closer this time then came the flash of baby pink through the trees.

bella turned instinctively just as the convertible rolled into the driveway smooth and shiny against the dull reservation roads. it looked expensive. out of place, almost like someone had dropped a barbie dreamhouse accessory into the wooden area by accident.

her eyes dragged to jacob when the car came to a halt just to see the jacob’s entire expression changed instantly.

it was subtle but devastating.

his shoulders loosened first then came this unconscious softness around his mouth, his eyes warming in a way bella hadn’t seen directed at herself in a very long time.

the gravel hadn’t even finished settling when you stepped out of the car. you were beautiful, you looked far too expensive for a town like this. your body looked beautifully drawn from an old greek painting and your clothes looked out of an expensive magazine and your face... god, you were just perfect in a way that almost made bella’s heart race.

your car looked far too out of place for the reservation roads, sat there like it didn’t belong and knew it. like it was already offended by the idea of dirt existing. the door shut behind you with a soft, expensive click that felt louder than it should’ve been.

you paused the moment you settled into the gravel, your shiny expensive heels getting dirty with it. you looked down, particularly slowly.

then up again at the wet grass like it had personally wronged you.

“jacob,” you called, already unimpressed, voice carrying that soft bratty edge like you were trying not to be annoyed but failing anyway. “why is everything always… damp here?”

jacob huffed something under his breath that almost passed for a laugh. “it rained.”

“i can see that,” you said immediately, like he’d insulted your intelligence by stating it. you lifted one foot slightly, staring at your shoe with open betrayal. “this is ridiculous.” this time jacob laughed again openly and bella watched him, watched the way jacob moved toward you without thinking.

no hesitation or awkwardness. he was a complete different person than who he was in this whole conversation.

like a switch had been flipped the second you existed in his space. he grabbed your waist softly when your knees wobbled from almost slipping, bella watched the way your manicured nails held onto his bicep and for a second, she didn’t know who to be jealous of. “i told you,” jacob said softly, now closer to you than he had been to bella all afternoon, “don’t wear those here.”

his chuckles were borderline giggles at this point.

you scoffed, but it didn’t land harsh, it sounded more like affection disguised as annoyance. “you didn’t say it like that,” you corrected him, gripping arm immediately like you had every right. like you’d done it a hundred times. “you said it like you were joking.” he was careful the way he guided you into the garage before settling in with you. hardly acknowledging her presence or perhaps in your love you hardly even registered her being there.

jacob didn’t move away, he didn’t even look like the thought crossed his mind and that was the part that made bella’s stomach tighten. she hated how closely she watched jacob lean down to press his lips against your perfectly glossed ones, she felt like a perv for how closely she watched your lips perfectly mesh together like you were meant to fit together. like you had been jacob’s missing piece.

finally, bella cleared her throat and you had to basically push jacob away from you because he kissed you like he was starving for your lips. you finally looked at bella, your eyes scanning her like you were dissecting every piece of her, jacob was careful wiping the smeared lip gloss off his lips “this is-”

“bella” you finished for him with a soft nod at him, you pulled away from him creating the tiniest bit of distance between you and your lover with a soft kind smile that seemed oddly real but with a hint of something else. bella snorts trying not to seem threatened by you but on the inside she was screaming. you were insanely beautiful. “you know me?” she tries to sound strong but the words die off at the end.

“yeah, he talked about you.” jacob was quick to cut in the second he caught the edge in your tone. “y/n,” he scolded softly, the warning gentle more than anything, but you only shrugged one shoulder like you didn’t really care.

“not in a weird way,” you corrected smoothly, glancing at him with a small roll of your eyes like you already knew exactly what he was trying to prevent. then your attention slid back toward bella again. “just… mentioned.”

bella hated that instantly.

mentioned.

like she was some passing story jacob casually brought up between conversations instead of the person who used to take up entire pieces of him. as if she had been reduced down into a few harmless anecdotes told to a pretty girl between kisses and late night phone calls.

“right,” bella answered quietly before the bitterness slipped out anyway. “i’m sure i come up a lot.” she hated how catty she sounded about it and it didn’t help the way jacob’s expression changed instantly.

his shoulders tensed and bella caught the brief flash of exhaustion across his face because he knew her well enough to recognize exactly what she was doing. poking at something just to see if it still hurt.

but you only looked mildly amused by it. if anything, bella’s reaction seemed to confirm something for you.

slowly, you stepped away from jacob then, heels hitting softly against the floor as you moved closer toward bella. far too confident for bella’s liking. the kind that came naturally to girls who had never needed to question whether they were wanted.

up close somehow you looked even prettier, expensive perfume mixing with the smell of the rain in the air while your glossy lips curved slightly at the corners.

“yeah…” you said softly, eyes dragging over bella slowly enough to make her chest tighten. “i expected you to be a lot prettier.”

silence.

bella physically felt the insult settle into her stomach because your tone wasn’t loud or dramatic. if anything, you sounded almost thoughtful about it.

like you were genuinely underwhelmed.

“y/n.” jacob’s voice came out sharper this time, disbelief flashing across his face as he caught your wrist gently and tugged you back against him before you could say anything else.

the movement was automatic.

practiced.

bella noticed that too.

the way your body folded back into his without hesitation, his hand settling against your waist instinctively while you tilted your head up at him with wide innocent eyes that didn’t match the smug little smile threatening your mouth at all.

“what?” you asked sweetly, like you hadn’t just insulted her to her face. “she started it.” but jacob shook his head at you, the two of you practically having an intense conversation with just your eyes. unspoken yet effective from the way you rolled your eyes again but leaned further into him once more.

and suddenly bella became painfully aware of herself standing there in the middle of it all like an outsider interrupting something intimate. there was history here she couldn’t touch, small habits and looks exchanged without thought, conversations happening silently in glances alone.

she didn’t fit into this space anymore.

maybe she hadn’t for a while.

“i’m gonna go,” bella said suddenly, the words coming out quicker than intended as she reached for her bag before either of them could stop her.

jacob looked up immediately. “bella”

“bye bella!” you shouted over him waving “drive safe!” though from the way bella was out of there jacob wasn’t even sure jf you beard.

then the second her truck disappeared past the trees, jacob slumped slightly beside you like the last ten minutes had physically exhausted him.

you looked up at him immediately, unimpressed.

“no more history, my ass.”

jacob let out a tired groan at that, dragging one large hand down his face before covering his eyes completely. “y/n,” he mumbled through his fingers already sounding defeated.

“mmhmm.” you crossed your arms over your chest, one heel tapping against the concrete floor impatiently. “because that looked super over.”

his hand dropped slowly and immediately found your waist again like it belonged there. “it is over,” he promised quickly, voice softer now. “i swear.”

you stared at him for another second then laughed directly in his face. “oh, baby,” you murmured sweetly, reaching up to smooth your fingers lightly through the ends of his hair where the rain had curled it slightly. “i’m not worried about you.”

jacob’s expression softened instantly at the nickname alone, completely gone for you in a way that almost looked embarrassing.

“then what’s the problem?” he asked quietly. you tilted your head slightly toward the driveway bella had disappeared down moments ago, lips curving with something dangerously amused.

“she seems to think it’s still happening.”

jacob blinked once then sighed hard enough to make you laugh again because the worst part was he knew exactly what you meant.

bella hadn’t looked jealous because of history. she looked jealous because she still thought she had a place here.

and maybe once upon a time she did.

but that space was no longer hers to fill, you were here now and honestly, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

a/n: hi! omg thank you so much for reading if you made it here!! i’m very happy you chose my fic and i really would love if you gave me your thoughts in the comments and hearted if you liked the fic! ❤️

isaac is smart.

it doesn't take him long to figure out how to make you gasp and cry for more. he's attentive.

he's studying each reaction and now, he's learnt a technique to get you to make those noises that always have him straining in his pants.

he isn't ashamed to admit he's cum untouched just from eating you out.

today was just like any ordinary day. except it wasn't.

it was an unspoken oath isaac had taken. swearing he'd never start anything he couldn't finish in his dorm room.

there were always interruptions.

he had even calculated the probability of various scenarios that could take place if the two of you had gotten nasty in his room.

thats why. his lab at the top floor of iago tower was where you always found yourself.

isaac claimed to love how private and intimate that space could be apart from being just a place of inventions. it was the place in which he had made you cum countless times.

however on this very day, there was no other option. iago tower was shut off for some repairs and your roommate had her whole group of friends over.

it was a nightmare for isaac night. why you may be wondering?

well because for the first time he didn't think he could hold out for one more day without tasting you.

you would laugh at the very poorly disguised hormones coursing through his veins.

it takes less than a minute for him to break his precious oath and he's shutting the door, ushering you towards his bed. you know how this always ends...

.

the sight infront of you has your back arching. his head buried against your cunt. it doesn't help that he's gripping your inner thighs. groaning rather loudly as he enthusiastically laps at your folds.

that when you feel it. the tip of his tongue slows down to trace out letters.

its exhilirating and its downright filthy.

"spell for me."

his voice raspy and breathless. offering you a sight of his face. nose glistening with slick and his lips swollen from his eagerness to draw out a second orgasm from you.

he gives a firm smack to your thigh, and you shiver. shyness hitting you harder when you hear how fucked out your voice sounds.

'...I"

he licks a straight line from your entrance all the way to your throbbing clit. stopping there to suck lightly on the bud of nerves.

"...S"

you manage to choke out. swirling over your folds with just the right pressure.

"..A!"

thighs clamping on either side of his head at the sensation. flicking over your clit teasingly.

"...A"

"...C"

your fists messing up his covers as you tugged. hands flying to grip his hair. unsure of whether to push him away or pull him in.

but you find yourself unconciously pushing him deeper against your cunt. the bridge of his nose rubbing deliciously over your nerves.

he doesn't stop you. infact the moan that escapes him has you rutting up against his hot mouth.

you feel his teeth brush over the skin, he hisses when your thighs cage him in. thrown over his shoulders to keep you open for him to devour.

"M...?"

you whisper out. jaw dropping. his tongue pushes into you fully. nose poking at your clit. you notice his eyes squeezing shut. eyebrows furrowed with intent and an undying loss of control.

"I..."

"..N"

you cry out, desperately tugging at his scalp. his moans vibrating into you.

"..E!"

"thats right. mine."

theres a loud knock on the door. followed by more consecutive knocks.

it sounds like the door was opening. it startles you and you lift your head up.

about to say something but you fall back down into his pillow. writhing in overstimulation as his thumb comes up to rub slow circles on your clit.

isaac's right hand raises up faster than lightning. slamming the door shut with his telekinesis and holding it there. its an unbearably hot sight to witness.

the knocks continue and you whine when he loudly slurps at your wetness.

it has an uncontrollable moan escape you. its hard to remain quiet when you were being forced-fed a piece of heaven.

his left hand moving up swiftly to shove two digits in your mouth. pressing down on your tongue to muffle your noises even though he continued his movements.

a chair noisely scraps across the floor and towards the door. it gets lodged under the doorhandle. a makeshift lock. it has your heart racing with the thought of his roomate walking in and stumbling on a sight like this.

he moves his wrist and a pen on his desk starts magically moving. scribbling away on a piece of paper.

it falls on the floor and you catch a glimpse of what was messily written.

'Gomez, Fuck off.'

the paper slides across the wooden floorboards disappearing under the small gap between the door and the floor.

the knocks stop abrubtly.

it doesn't take long for isaac to lose it. mouthing at your cunt with growing desperation. his hips grinding into the mattress.

groaning like it was the best damn meal he had eaten in a long while.

.

.

Upon learning the news you had feared Ser Gwayne would be much like his father Ser Otto. However as you were sent to Oldtown to wed him, you were delighted to find out that it was not the case. He did share his father’s sharp way with words and his good education, but he was much gentler. You were almost ashamed of yourself at how enchanted you were with your husband, who was as beautiful as he was galant, with fiery red hair and piercing eyes.

Your wedding night was a delight, although the lack of pain could be explained by the fact that you had lost your virtue to your own twin, Jacaerys, given time and time over in the weeks before your departure for Oldtown. The love the two of you shared had always been apparent, but it had burst into uncontrollable flames at the news that you would be taken from him—Jace was proud and protective, and you loathed to leave him behind.

However you did as you were bid by the King, swallowing your sorrows and ignoring the longing that bloomed like a bush of thorns as the months passed. They were only soothed by the tentative happiness you found in this arranged marriage. Over the months you grew to learn of Gwayne’s ways, of his keen mind and his sharp sense of humor, and a friendship grew that soon turned into trust and the first embers of love.

You found yourself caught between the two loves that inhabited your heart as your twin flew across the realm half a year after you had come to Oldtown and spent a fortnight as a guest. Gwayne was delighted to entertain a prince of the realm, and seeing the two young men side by side troubled you greatly—you felt as though your very soul was split into two.

“I would not break my vows to Gwayne, Jace,” you pleaded one evening as Jace found you alone in one of the parlors and pulled you into a tight embrace. “He is a good man, and although I suspect him of knowing I was not a maid upon our wedding, he has never brought it up against me.”

“Does he please you? Keep you happy?” he asked against your cheek, his breath still heavy from your kisses, his lips flushed a dark pink.

You nodded silently, and the crestfallen look on his face as he pulled away made guilt curl deeply in your gut. “Do you love him?” he asked, his voice wavering.

“Not in the way that I love you,” you pleaded, curling your hands in his doublet, feeling him slip through your fingers. “You are my twin, another half of me.”

“But you have grown to love him, as a wife loves her husband,” Jacaerys pressed, and despite your heartbreak, you found no lies in his words.

“I know this must come as a betrayal to you, and I am sorry for it. I did not mean for it to happen, you know I came here intent on resenting him!” you hissed, and your twin smiled gently, pained.

“He is a decent man and an accomplished knight, I am glad you are able to find love in this arrangement,” he replied, holding on to his values and beliefs, no matter how shattered his heart was. “I should take my leave tomorrow, surely your lord husband will not begrudge me for returning to my duties on Dragonstone.”

That night you cried into your pillow, biting your lips against the sobs that threatened to alert your husband as he settled to sleep beside you. “What has you so crestfallen, my love?” Gwayne asked, curling at your back, but you could not answer. 

He held you as you cried and did not pry, even though he burned to have his doubts confirmed. He had known of your closeness with your brother early on, such was the way of twins, but he suspected your bond to run deeper. He had had suspicions since a banquet held for Prince Daeron’s name day while the two of you were courting, a mere month before your wedding.

He had walked into charged situations a couple of times, always feeling like he was walking in on the tail end of a conversation he was not privy to. It did not help that your twin Jacaerys had spent the banquet looking like he was caught between fury and heartbreak, and was much more curt to him than he ought to be.

Gwayne knew the Targaryens to have queer customs and hold strange traditions, and he supposed the natural bond between dragon twins would favor such an attraction, yet he feared to consider it. You were his lady wife, a young woman of character whom he had learned to adore, and he did not want to suggest such an outrageous thing if it was not the truth.

You had eventually fallen asleep, but as the morning came Gwayne could see you had not rested much, no doubt plagued by what was causing you sorrow. He kept himself busy for most of the morning as the prince’s departure was being prepared, allowing you as much space as he suspected you required to tell him your goodbyes.

He was making his way down to the outer courtyard where the prince’s dragon, Vermax, was waiting, when his eye was caught by two familiar figures hiding in an alcove. The corridor was deserted, and Gwayne stopped dead in his tracks, surprise and something akin to anticipation curling in his gut as he watched the pair of twins. 

He waited with bated breath, and finally, the inevitable, irrevocable occurred—Jacaerys pressed a kiss to your lips, and you surged up against him. It was unmistakably a lover’s kiss, passionate and hurried, and it made his heart ache to witness it. His loins stirred despite himself, and he lowered his eyes as though he was the one being caught in a compromising position before taking a few steps back.

He kept his eyes on the two of you, making sure that he was not seen, long enough to see you push away and turn from him, your hands rising to your face. He walked away, heart hammering in his chest—the confirmation of your bond with your twin did not pain him, he was surprised to find out, but instead left him curious and strangely incensed.

He could not deny the Prince was handsome, with a temper and a wit that he found most entertaining. He was the perfect mirror image of you, with sharper features but the same elegant way to his movements. The pair of you made a striking sight, and Gwayne had considered commissioning a painting of the two of you, to offer you for your name day, only for him to share in the pleasure of gazing upon beauty. 

To see the set of you in the flesh would make an enticing sight, and Gwayne was nothing if not a collector of pretty things.

Jacaerys had been surprised to receive an invitation from Ser Gwayne, rather than you, especially since it demanded that he keep his visit a secret—a surprise for his wife who had been rather morose in recent weeks, the letter said.

“I’m afraid your usual rooms are unavailable, my prince, as a leak from the attic has made its way along the wall,” Gwayne explained as he led him instead to the main quarters upon his arrival. “I have had the rooms next to ours be prepared. After all, you are such a frequent guest, you might prefer a more permanent quarter.”

“Thank you, Ser Gwayne,” Jace replied politely as he was led into a large room decorated with refined taste.

Embroidered tapestries of various shades of green and blue hung on the walls, no doubt reminiscent of House Florent, and numerous settees and lounging armchairs were available. Facing the hearth, a wide poster bed with curtains was pushed against the wall—the one where, on the other side, his sister shared a bedchamber with her husband.

“You ought to call me by my name, we are brothers by marriage after all,” Gwayne said amicably, his head bowing slightly, although there was an edge to it that turned Jace’s blood cold. 

As the man left him to settle and the door to his new rooms closed behind him, Jacaerys rested against them, shutting his eyes against hot tears—there was hardly any doubt left now, the man knew of the feelings he held for his sister, and was intent on tormenting him for them.

However he could not say a word, or chastise him, for fear of revealing his own sister and thus endeavored to bear the concealed japes. He held his tongue through supper, forcing himself to be agreeable for his sister’s sake, but you could tell something was amiss.

Fear of accusations kept him quiet, biting his own tongue—he knew the truth being put into words would be considered a betrayal at the least, and indecency at the worst.

“Jacaerys behaved rather strangely today,” you commented later that night as you removed your earrings and set them down in one of the little dishes on your dresser. 

“Did he?” Gwayne hummed, dipping his face into the back of your neck, pressing kisses to the freckles that bloomed there. 

“Yes,” you answered nervously. You wet your lips and swallowed, feeling your mouth go dry. “You have not quarreled with him upon his arrival, have you?”

“I would have told you. But enough about your brother now, my love,” Gwayne replied gently, pulling you toward the bed and onto his lap before toppling you onto your back. “I have missed your radiant disposition, and now that he is here and all is well, I am intent on enjoying it…”

“Are you saying my mood is linked to my brother’s presence?” you asked, biting your lower lip, as your husband pressed you to the pillows.

“Very much, but I wouldn’t dwell on it. You are twins after all,” he said before pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, cutting off any reply you could have had.

It wasn’t long before you were both rid of your robes and your husband was buried deep inside of you, rocking smoothly in and out of your tight heat, pulling delighted sighs from your parted lips.

Gwayne seemed particularly incensed, focused on dragging the head of his cock against the spot he knew made you unravel. The bed creaked as he picked up speed, and you covered your mouth with the flat of your hand to silence your moans.

“Let me hear you, my love,” he said, taking your wrist in hand and pressing it to the pillow, intertwining your fingers.

“He will hear us,” you gasped, already conscious of the way the bed knocked against the wall with each of his thrusts, the very wall where on the other side, Jace slept. 

“Let him hear,” Gwayne replied, then dipped his head to suck one of your nipples into his mouth—he knew how sensitive you were, to the point that he had once brought you to your peak by this mean, without a single touch between your legs.

Shame curled in your core along with your pleasure, and you found yourself caught between your fear of revealing yourself, and the utter temptation of the situation. You knew of your husband’s sense of teasing and flair, but this went beyond what was proper. However your body decided against your reason and apprehension, and soon you were lost to the pull of Gwayne’s mouth and the drag of his cock against your sweet spot.

The more sighs and moans fell from your lips, the harder your husband was thrusting into you, sweat pearling at his temples and pleasure turning his freckles into specks of fire—a jolt of heat went through you as he found his peak once you had reached yours, his groans and whimpers louder than usual.

Such passion left you languid and unwilling to part from your pillow too early the next morning, encouraged by Gwayne, who seemed invigorated. “Stay abed a while if you wish, I shall entertain our guest,” he pressed into your temple along with a kiss.

His vigor carried into the training yard as he invited his good-brother to a sparring match, a way to shake sleep from their frames and get their blood pumping before breaking the fast of the night. Jacaerys agreed, albeit hesitantly, but his competitive nature soon took over. 

A grin etched onto his graceful features, Gwayne was taunting him with his training sword just as he had taunted him the night prior, drawing moans and wails from his sister while Jace laid awake, unable to do anything but listen and wait it out.

Shame was still heavy in his stomach as his desire remained unsatisfied—the peak he had drawn from himself at the sounds of your coupling had barely scratched the surface of his longing. 

He put his frustrations into fending off Gwayne’s attacks, their swords clashing swiftly, and into his own attacks, which were perhaps too bold and vicious for the training yard. However Gwayne was taller and seemingly amused by Jace’s anger, and his frustrated mood eventually became his own downfall as he grew clumsier, until he found himself defeated.

“Have I done something to anger you, my prince?” Gwayne asked amusedly as he held the point of his sword to Jace’s chest, who was lying into the dirt, resting on his elbows.

“Not at all, ser,” he replied, falsely cheerful. 

Footsteps echoed in the small staircase leading down to the training yard, and your joyful tone resonated when you leaned over the railing, smiling at the sight of your brother refusing to take your husband’s outstretched hand. “There you are,” you called. “Breakfast is being served in the solar.”

The meal was a tense affair, and neither your husband nor your twin seemed inclined to speak. Instead they seemed caught in some sort of silent confrontation, Gwayne looking rather amused and conniving while Jace only appeared more upset with each passing minute.

Hot tea was served, along with sweet cakes, and you focused on pouring the hot beverage through the small sieve instead of the two men’s silent sparring. 

“I have an offer,” Gwayne suddenly announced after a sip of tea, startling both you and your twin. You watched as your husband licked his lower lip, then his gaze raised to Jacaerys, piercing and clear. “Join us,” he simply said.

“Join us where?” you asked, a confused smile pulling at your lips as nervousness grasped your heart slightly.

“He knows what I mean,” he replied rather solemnly, his eyes fixed on your twin who rose abruptly,  pushing from the table. Jacaerys was white as snow, looking both rattled and furious, and your smile vanished from your face.

“This jest has lasted long enough, you might have amused yourself but I cannot—” he started, and Gwayne interrupted him gently.

“Do ease, my prince. I mean no offense,” he said, and it seemed to rather spook Jace even more, who swallowed unshed tears.

“I don’t understand,” you pressed. 

“I am aware of the bond you two share. I witnessed your—” Gwayne said, then licked his lips, gesturing with his hands as though he was picturing the scene again. “Your parting kiss, the last time your dear brother visited.”

Your heart sank at this revelation, your breath vanishing from your chest; your mouth dropped open to catch it, but instead you choked on it, your hand reaching for Jace’s arm. You could not look at your husband, for shame consumed you, and you feared to see revulsion on his handsome features.

“I should not have toyed with you to this extent, my prince, it did not mean for it to seem so cruel. Please forgive me,” he said, and you could hear no lie in his voice—your gaze rose to him and through your tears, you tried to decipher his intentions.

Jace shook his head, looking down in shame. “You had every right. She is your wife.”

“And she is your twin,” Gwayne said with conviction, as though it explained everything. “I understand it pains you to be parted, and I am not completely unfamiliar with Targaryen customs.”

“Husband, what are you saying?” you said with waveringwords, wiping your tears on your sleeves. Across from the table, Gwayne was looking at you tenderly, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“I have always prided myself on being a generous lover. I would not stand between the two of you, be the reason why your love remains… unfulfilled,” he explained, then a small smile appeared on his face, kind and benevolent. “Although I can only guess it was fulfilled, in the past.”

“Before we were wed, never after,” you rushed to reassure him, but he did not seem to give your words much thought.

Instead he turned his piercing gaze to Jacaerys once more, who appeared to be frozen in his spot. “You are quite pleasant to look at, if you would allow me to say so, my prince,” he started. “And you might blame my vanity and frivolity, but I take immense pleasure in collecting handsome things.”

“Are you suggesting Jace joins us, in our bed?” you asked hesitantly, your grip on your twin’s arm tightening. 

“Yes, that is one option,” Gwayne replied, bringing his teacup to his mouth once more. “If you would prefer me not to be present, I’m sure I can find duties to attend to.”

“You would give us leave to…” Jacaerys said, sitting back down tentatively, his wrists turning in your grasp until your fingers intertwined.

“To live your love as you wished,” Gwayne continued, his eyes briefly glancing at your joined hands atop the table. “You have a permanent residence here if you so wish it, and are welcome to my wife’s bed as much as you desire.”

The pair of you watched him, slightly amazed at the proposal, and you almost wanted to laugh at the surreal situation your husband had pushed you into. “Although we might need a second room… A man needs a bed to sleep in, if his is occupied,” he added with a touch of humor, hiding his smile in his cup, and you bolted from your seat to round the table, coming to his side. 

To his surprise, you dropped to your knees, grabbing his free hand and pressing it to your lips. “Husband, I thank you, and I am in your debt,” you vowed.

“You are not, my love,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything to keep you happy.”

The darkest hour of the night later found you and Jacaerys huddled under soft, silky sheets, defiling your marital bed, with your own spouse’s enthusiastic permission.

That fact alone was a thrill you had never expected, and the utter joy of being reunited with your twin had only added to it. Jacaerys had taken you a first time with unconcealed longing and relief—you could hardly believe you were one with him again. 

The languid kisses of your afterglow had slowly turned passionate again, and he was teasing his length along the cleft of your cunt when a quiet knock startled you. You both untangled yourselves and sat up, pulling the sheets at your waist—it’s Gwayne, you whispered to Jace, who relaxed slightly. 

“I hope I am not interrupting,” your husband said in a quiet voice, as though he was entering a sanctuary. 

“Not at all,” you replied, sitting up against the pillows, your flushed chest bared to both men’s gaze—it was unfamiliar to be so exposed, but you felt safe while in their company, even though you were still amazed at the ease of your husband in this situation. 

“I simply came to fetch—” he said, reaching for the dresser, but your twin interrupted him. 

“You might stay,” Jacaerys offered tentatively.

“The bed is large enough for three to sleep, I suppose,” Gwayne said, sitting at the foot of it. The room smelled of sweat and musk, and the scent got stronger at its source, where it was permeating the sheets. His loins stirred as he leaned against the bedpost, considering the two of you.

“If sleep is what you wish to do then we would not keep you awake, but that was not what I had in mind,” Jacaerys said with the hint of a mischievous smile.

“A most enticing offer,” Gwayne remarked as he stood up and rounded the bed, pulling the armchair he kept near his bookshelf closer. “By all means then, carry on, if you do not mind a spectator for now,” he said as he sat, crossing his legs at the ankles, resting them on the edge of the mattress. “I did interrupt you, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” you said, biting your lower lip as a genuinely happy smile pulled at your lips.

“Would you show me what I interrupted?” he asked then, his tone darker. 

Jacaerys and you shared a smile, then a deep, slow kiss before he settled atop you again and pushed into you in one, smooth stroke. The slight stretch was comfortable and you allowed yourself to sigh aloud, sinking back into the sheets as your twin thrusted into you. 

“By the Gods you are a marvelous sight,” Gwayne murmured—the long lines of Jacaerys’ legs and back were cradled between your creamy thighs, your knees hooked at his hips, your ankles curled together. Your twin’s dark curls fell into his eyes as he thrusted into you, and you were quick to push them behind his ears, holding his head like a lifeline. 

With his eyes Gwayne followed the path of your hands, from the luscious mane to the back of your twin’s neck, then down the wave of his spine, pressing down his lower back, guiding his thrusts. He uncrossed his legs, unable to help his own hands wandering, up his thighs and in the crook of his hips were his cock was filling. He pressed his palm down on it, parting his lips on a breathless sigh and your gaze turned to him.

“Husband,” you called in a whine as Jace sucked a kiss into your neck—the sight of your spouse watching your own twin take you while he teased himself was proving to be your undoing, and you could hardly remain coherent, let alone alert.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to Jace’s mouth and hips, and to Gwayne’s gaze and words. “The pair of you are the most beautiful, most arousing sight I have ever laid eyes on,” he praised, and Jace’s back erupted in shiver under your hands. Your fingers tightened at his hips, your cunt clenching around him as you whimpered.

“Harder,” Gwayne suddenly ordered, pulling a grunt out of Jace as he sped up, and you couldn’t help the way you fluttered around him, as he obeyed the orders of your husband. One of your hands flew out, grabbing and pulling the sheets in frustration when you could not reach him.

“My sister wants you to join us,” Jacaerys gasped, his eyes throwing a dark look over his shoulder, and Gwayne felt a thrill at this glimpse of the prince’s fire. 

The way he had referred to you didn’t go unnoticed but instead of making possessiveness erupt in him, it sent another shiver down Gwayne's spine—to see his precious jewel in the arms of another man was heady and addictive, and he knew he would be forever changed by it.

“What does my prince want?” he replied, almost a croon. 

He did not wait for an answer, instead he unfolded his long frame and pushed from his seat, working the laces of his shirt and trousers easily—they came off in soft sounds drowned by the subtle creaking of the bed and your sighs of pleasure. You whined again as your husband stood in all his glory, his long fingers cradling the length of his cock loosely, working his hand from the nest of red curls at its base to the weeping tip.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Jacaerys slowed his pace, unwilling to see it end too soon. Restraining himself was agony, especially under the watchful eyes and praiseful words of your husband, but as he followed your gaze, a thrill went through him.

He had never been one to find charm in a man, but he had to admit the Hightower lord was a lovely sight to behold, and he could not fault you for falling for him. His pale skin was flushed pink at his cheeks and chest, his red hair falling into his eyes, his slim frame quivering slightly as he stroked his cock slowly.

“Your prince wants you to take your place at your princess' side,” he instructed gently, and grateful tears came to your eyes. Gwayne smiled and complied, letting go of his cock as he came to sit on the side of the bed where you could finally reach him.

Your nails scratched his arm in an effort to pull him to you, and soon he was stretching his long frame alongside yours. You clenched around Jace’s cock as Gwayne slanted his mouth over yours, kissing you with expert passion.

“Watch as I make her come undone,” Jace whispered, incensed by the way your body was growing taut under his, a sign of the mounting pressure in your core. “What a marvelous sight indeed,” he added with unconcealed awe, witnessing the obvious love between you and your husband.

He dipped his head slowly, allowing either of you to push him away, and as neither of you did, pressed his lips to the corner of yours, where they were still locked with Gwayne’s.

The older man made a pleased sound, then broke the kiss only to press his lips to the side of Jace’s jaw, chaste and tender. “How does it feel to be inside of her again?” he asked, both serious and teasing, and the sight of both your lovers hovering over you was proving to be your undoing.

“I am on my knees with gratitude,” he answered impertinently, and Gwayne chuckled.

“Gods have mercy, please,” you whined, rocking your hips desperately, grinding your core against your twin’s abdomen—his pace was torturously slow, only just enough to make you dance on the edge. 

“She does beg prettily, doesn’t she?” Gwayne asked—he was the most brazen of the two, but you could tell a fire laid dormant behind Jace’s eyes. Your embraces had always been forbidden, hurried, but now that you were free to explore your love and enjoy each other’s skin, you were curious to find out what sort of passion lurked in his bones. 

Gwayne’s hand curled around his own cock again, his mouth dropping open on languid sighs. Your eyes flitted between his face and that of your twin, unable to decide, until you finally closed your eyes to the onslaught of pleasure as Jace picked up his pace. You could tell from his soft grunts and the subtle shaking of his thighs that he was reaching the limit of his patience.

Gwayne bit his lip, heat flashing through him and making his cock throb in his hand as you arched your back, sweet moans falling from your mouth. He saw the moment your twin brought you to your peak, your moans turning to silent screams, your thighs quivering around his hips—Jace was groaning through his teeth, and it was with a sob that he pulled out as soon as you settled again, spending across your belly in violent ropes of white. 

“Gwayne,” you whimpered, looking down between his legs as the last quivers of pleasure shook you.

You looked aside at your twin in slight hesitation, but he smiled and stretched his slim frame along your side. You leaned into him as he curled a hand under your thigh, inviting your husband to take the place he had been enjoying mere seconds ago. 

“I would not overwhelm you,” Gwayne whispered as he kneeled between your parted knees.

Jacaerys watched, a scalding blush erupting all across his face. You smiled at him, bright and victorious, as Gwayne found his pleasure in the cradle of your hips, burying his moans in your neck. You were wet and pliant under him, languid from your recent peak, and you welcomed Jace’s gentle kiss as Gwayne rocked into you.

“Skorkydoso gevie se lanta hen iksā hēnkirī. Zȳhon perzys iksis isse zȳhon ōghar, issa iā sȳz iderennon syt ao. How beautiful the two of you are together. His fire is in his hair, he suits you,” Jacaerys said, tender and solemn.

“Perzo vūjita. Kissed by fire,” you crooned, your fingers tangling in Gwayne fiery strands, pulling them gently as he stilled in your arms. He had not an inkling of what your twin had said to you, and what you had replied, only that the High Valyrian had rolled off him like a lover’s caress.

He groaned as he spilled inside of you, aware of the dragon prince’s envious gaze on him, and the mere idea of allowing him the same pleasure next time was a thrill. He longed to watch the two of you again, to praise and guide you, and to see your reaction as he encouraged your twin to spill inside—that particular taste of the forbidden was one he would not deny himself, or Jacaerys. 

He knew it would be glorious to watch, as would many other kisses and caresses. His mind was reeling, filled with them and he was eager to share them with the two of you. “May this night be the first of many,” he sighed as he laid at your side, a bone-deep satisfaction spreading along his limbs.

Mindless of the mess on your skin, you curled at his side, resting your head on his shoulder as Jacaerys molded along your back, hooking his own chin over your shoulder. Gwayne’s arm laid trapped under you, his fingers reaching along the side of your twin’s neck and upper back. The young prince shivered, pressing his hips into you as Gwayne teased the curls at his nape tentatively.

“How many nights of this will there be?” Jace asked, and you smiled at his need for reassurance.

“It is as I said. I would not keep the pair of you apart,” Gwayne said, his eyes fluttering close as you nuzzled into him. The combined smell of his sweat and that of Jace was slowly lulling you into a state of near slumber, your limbs growing heavy, pressed between their bodies. 

Jacaerys pushed himself on his elbow, his head resting atop yours, close enough for Gwayne to feel his breath when he spoke. “Surely rumor will stain us,” he whispered regretfully.

Gwayne said nothing, instead glancing at a tapestry in the corner of the room where he knew a hidden door laid, used by the previous generation to connect the two rooms that used to be nurseries. “I will protect you,” he replied, and you made a small sound of approval. He kissed your forehead at that, his face pressing closer to Jace’s for a moment. 

“Many men in this realm find their pleasure in the arms of whores or mistresses. Many ladies find similar contentment with lovers,” Gwayne explained, reaching up with his free hand to tuck a stray curl behind Jace’s ear—the young man stayed still, not leaning into him, but not rejecting the touch either. “It is the way of the world, but this is different…”

“We came into this world together, we belong together,” Jacaerys said, his hand curling possessively at your hip, his tone sealing the finality of this arrangement. 

Gwayne only smiled, a gentle laugh building in his throat—he would gladly keep the two of you here, wrapped in lace and silk until the end of times, simply for the thrill of seeing twin flames dance together, and the selfish desire to know the intimate ways of dragons.

Dividers by @/saradika

Author's Note: Thank you to all the anons who gave me the idea for this fic, and even for some of the scenes. Thank you for all the asks, the unhinged thoughts, the wholesome ones... This fic is yours ♡

Thank you to @zaldritzosrose for reading the smut over and making sure it make sense.

Comment if you'd like to be tagged in a sequel.

Gwayne Taglist: @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose @multyfangirl @purple-1995 @tumblin-theworldaway

@caterina-caterina @oldtowrs @targaryenswhxre @tabiitha @lothiriel9

@thenameswinter99 @maeriontargaryen @peachysunrize @majoso12

Jacaerys Taglist: @aegonswife @hobisinterlude @bunbunbl0gs @brevlada24

@thenameswinter99 @v0relino @jacesvelaryons @nanaldy @multyfangirl

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@lechat-rouge @ladyofvelaryon @alrightyxaphroditee @poetatorturadaa @nanaldy

Instead the Stranger had taken her in her prime, through dragon fire that had burned her flesh and rotted her core until she had eventually succumbed to it. Or perhaps it was the grief of losing another son, that in the end had been too much to bear. Many in the Red Keep suspected that the loss of Queen Helaena and their youngest son had been what had driven Aegon to madness, until his own men had taken pity. 

Only the Gods knew the truth of it, now all there was for Jacaerys to understand was that the two rulers, legitimate and usurping, who had sat the throne after Viserys were now dead, and the crown had landed on his head. 

Under the looming presence of the Iron Throne, Jacaerys paced the marble floors, attempting to make sense of the utter devastation around him. The high ceilings now felt suffocating, as though the very sky was crumbling over his head. 

“I should not be there,” he said outloud, almost to himself, or perhaps to the Gods, but his faithful friend Cregan Stark still answered his call of anguish. 

Wrists resting atop the pommel of Ice, which he carried at his waist these days, the young lord was watching over him as Kingsguard would, with the sort of silent presence that reminded Jacaerys that he was not alone in carrying his grief. 

“This is your rightful place, my prince,” he reminded him with the steadfastness he had come to expect from the northerner. 

“No it is not. It shouldn’t be, not by decades at least,” he resisted, and Cregan knew him to be right. 

Upon answering the call of the Dragon Queen, never would he have imagined that he would see a great dynasty fall to its knees in such a short time. Dragon riders had risen and fallen as quickly as the tide and as unpredictably, and he feared that it was only through sheer fate that one legitimate heir remained.

While it was not in his character to contemplate potential ruin, he knew the face of the crown could have been a child not even a decade old, would Jacaerys have drowned along with his dragon at the Gullet.

“Why have the Gods allowed it? Why allow my mother to die but me to survive?” Jacaerys lamented, the healed wound in his shoulder throbbing then, a pulsing burn from an arrow that had scarcely missed his heart—in that instant he almost wished it had not, and had allowed him to rest at the bottom of the sea with Vermax, instead of standing to inherit ruins.

“It is not for us to know,” Cregan replied, knowing it was no comfort. Then he cleared his throat, meaning to lead the young king to where he was expected. “They are waiting for you.”

Jacaerys turned to him then, his eyes rimmed with red and his face gaunter than a man of his age should be, the face of a man who had seen the Stranger many a time. “I cannot rule.”

Cregan stepped forward and put a heavy hand on his shoulder—still, the touch felt like the comfort of a brother, the sort Jacaerys sorely missed, and he leaned into it for support. “Then allow me to counsel you. We have been friends, haven’t we?”

Jacaerys nodded, swallowing heavily—the battlefield forged strong friendships, bonds of brotherhood the like he would have never imagined beforehand. “We have,” he confirmed. “There is no one else I trust.”

“Then believe me when I say, you will be a fine king,” Cregan replied, and it planted the seed of an idea in him, that perhaps not all of it was a curse—perhaps this was the call of destiny, no matter how painful, and he only had to answer it. “One I will gladly bend the knee to.”

The Red Keep had been your birth place, and now you were certain it would be your resting place. It had now been a fortnight since Rhaenyra had taken the Iron Throne once more, returning to King’s Landing with an army several thousands strong, made of Rivermen and Northerners, only to find that the revenge she sought had already been taken from her. Aegon laid cold in his bed, and she followed mere days later. 

You had been confined to Maegor's Holdfast, kept under close watch in your rooms most days, as though you were more than you were, more than a woman and instead a danger to the unlikely king now wearing the crown. You had never had to think of yourself as a political pawn until your brother Aegon, having taken the throne once more, had summoned you to the capital. You had obeyed your king, but in the span of a few weeks, he had perished and left you and your mother to face the consequences of his actions.

You loathed him as much as you loathed Rhaenyra and her brood. It was a cruel turn of fate, almost a cruel sort of poetry, that both pretenders to the throne had perished in the pursuit of it, leaving their heirs to scrub their blood from the stone floors and rebuild the dynasty they had destroyed, or pay the price of their pride in their own blood. 

All those that had betrayed Rhaenyra’s faction were now facing justice, and you feared you were only waiting for the executioner’s blade. You wondered whether your nephew’s own sword would do it, or if he would entrust the task to his most loyal man, Cregan Stark. Perhaps they would show mercy and send you into exile, to become a Silent Sister. 

Death or eternal silence,you knew what you would rather endure. 

Thus you waited for the Stranger in the room that had seen your childhood and little else, as you had been sent to Oldtown for your education once the first spring of your womanhood had bloomed. The Faith of the Seven now rooted you and guided you, and you clung to prayers as not to fall into madness.

On the third night of his reign, it was not the hand nor the blade of justice that came to you, but Jacaerys himself, and you wondered whether the following morrow would be the last dawn you would see. 

You stood abruptly as he entered, glancing towards the guard at the door with dread. “Rest easy, you have nothing to fear from me,” Jacaerys assured you. He was dressed in regal clothing made of black, the velvet layer on the inside of his cape a deep red. His hair fell to his shoulders in dark curls, nearly black in the low light of the candles. 

“Don’t I?” you asked, openly weary and hostile. “Where are my niece, and my mother?”

“Confined to their own rooms,” the young man replied with what seemed to you as regret. 

You noticed that he was not wearing the crown, but his head was bowed as though it was weighing on his neck, a constant presence. “Might I see them?” you inquired, but it sounded more like an order you were giving him.

“Your niece, yes,” Jacaerys conceded. 

“She’s a motherless child. Surely you would not have her be confined alone,” you insisted, and it seemed to convince him.

“You will be escorted to see her,” he offered, but it did little to appease you.

You approached him in careful steps until he could see the unshed tears glimmer in your eyes, your brow furrowed in concealed anger. You were trembling, ever so slightly, and when he searched your face for any familiar flicker, he found none—you were his blood, and yet nothing tied the two of you together but hatred.

“What will happen to us, now?” you inquired, gauging him. Standing face to face, you were reminded then of the years of your childhood, and you wondered whether the boy you had known then was still within reach, or if he had perished alongside his kin, replaced by a man you did not know.

“Nothing, for the time being. You are to be confined until trials have been run,” he explained.

Hope burst in your chest then, a starving dragon freed from its chains taking to the skies, ready to burn the lands around it. “And after that?”

Jacaerys looked pained then, a frown between his brows. “I do not know,” was all he answered, and he looked like a child, frightened by his own crown and unable to yield the power he possessed, and you hated him for it. 

“Why have you come, then, if you do not know of my fate?” you accused, your burning tears pearling at the corners of your eyes, your simmering rage like a silent sob caught in your chest, and he did not have any more answers for you.

Once Jacaerys had left, leaving more doubts and fears behind, you realized you had only addressed him in questions. There was a rage inside of you, and a primal fear that was no doubt similar to that of a beast caught in a trap, forced to eat through its own leg to free itself. 

You only had blunt teeth, but you still hoped you could sharpen them in due time.

Over the last pair of years, Jacaerys had sat at many a council of war, at the Painted Table in Dragonstone, but always as a councilor himself, advising his mother—it was only now that he realized how comfortable such a position was, making the decisions without having to enforce them, or without having to consider their consequences.

Now he was the one standing at the head of the table, leading men that sat in front of their marble ball as though they had paid a price for it and ought to claim them with pride, when in truth they had been named because they were alive and breathing. 

Corlys Velaryon was still abed from his wounds, but the men who had advised his mother during her last days were now serving him, waiting for him to name his council as he wished. All of them were taking their orders from a king young enough to be their son or grandson, one or two failing to conceal their contempt for that fact, and Jace wondered if such was the fate of all the kings that had preceded him. 

However what Jace lacked in years lived, he made up for in the devastation he had seen. In many ways grief was his experience, more so than strategy and governance, and he supposed it forged a man just as well.

Before the war he had never realized what came with being king—the grief, knowing the crown had only been passed on because the previous monarch had perished. It was all the more burdensome knowing his mother had barely reigned, and never over peace.

Since Cregan’s declaration of devotion, he had had the time to contemplate the sort of king he would want to be, the sort of legacy he would want to leave behind, whether his reign would be long or short. What mattered to him most was not to assert his authority or to be admired—he needed to rebuild and to leave the crown strong for his heirs. His reign would not be for himself, but for those who come after. 

With such a conclusion he sat before his council that morning, Cregan at his right where the Hand would usually be.

Roland Westerling, an older man with a calm disposition, handed a roll of parchment to Jacaerys, the seal of which had already been broken, a golden stag. “Lady Elenda Baratheon has accepted your terms of peace,” he informed the council as soon as they were all seated. 

“Nearly half of the great houses in the land are now ruled by babes and their mothers as regents,” Unwin Peake commented, as though this simple fact held an inherent flaw.

“I will gladly deal with these women. They might make wiser rulers than their husbands, who took to arm against my mother,” he said, unrolling the parchment and reading it over quickly before passing it along to Cregan. “Lord Roland, your daughter Joanna now rules House Lannister, does she not?”

“Indeed,” Roland answered with a slight smile of pride. “Loreon is a boy of barely five.”

Once great, powerful houses with proud men at their helm, the Lannisters and the Baratheons were now led by women, mothers of their heirs who would now lead the very men that had marched to war refusing to bow to a queen, and Jacaerys would laugh at their fate if he could summon the mirth. 

“There is still unrest in the Reach, I’m afraid,” Thaddeus Rowan said. “Those who remain loyal to the Greens are loath to settle, however the Hightowers are now ruled by a boy of seven and ten. He might easily be reasoned with.”

“Summon him to King’s Landing. I will receive him,” Jacaerys decided, to which Roland took note.

“He has made a rather unusual request to the High Septon,” Thaddeus continued with an appalled expression on his face. “He has asked for permission to wed his own father’s second wife, Lady Samantha Tarly.”

Jacaerys frowned—while there was no blood between a boy and his step-mother, it was still highly unusual and perhaps distasteful, especially since Oldtown was the cradle of the Faith. “How do you know of this, my lord?”

“Lady Sam is my niece, by my sister,” Thaddeus supplied. 

Without a word, Cregan gave Jacaerys a slow tilt of his head. “The Tarlys supported my mother, as did your house, did they not?” Jacaerys asked Lord Roland. “Did Lady Sam’s loyalties lie with my mother?”

Thaddeus observed Jacaerys for a moment. “Indeed.”

“Write to the High Septon in my name,” Jacaerys then decided. “Have him grant the marriage.”

As soon had he given the order, barely breathing after his words, that Unwin Peake cleared his throat. “While we are speaking of marriage, your grace, there is a matter we must discuss,” the man said, sharing a look with the other lords that spoke of a preceding agreement. “I loathe to be the one to say it, but a young king shall need a queen and heirs.”

“My brothers are my heirs,” Jacaerys protested. 

“The future of the realm partly rests on you securing a long-lasting peace,” Roland said. “While we have come to understand that an informal betrothal was made in childhood between yourself and Lady Baela Velaryon, she might not be the wisest match.”

Baela and himself had been children together, and while the expectation had been for them to marry, he cherished her friendship and had rarely considered the prospect. “A marriage is an alliance, a political calculation,” he continued.

Cregan crossed his hands atop the table and leaned forward. “What do you suggest?” he asked, but Jace could tell he already knew what point they were about to make, and he braced himself.

“The breach between the two branches of House Targaryen may be mended,” Thaddeus offered carefully. “Were his grace to wed the remaining child of King Viserys and Alicent Hightower.”

Horror rose from the pit of his stomach, settled only when he caught eyes with Cregan, whose gaze was calm and direct—without a word needed between them, the northerner gave him a slow nod, and with that, his fate was sealed.

Evening was falling, a heavy veil over the Red Keep, made of darkness and cold wind. Winter was settling and the days were darker and shorter, plunging the castle in a grim atmosphere that lasted from the end of the afternoon to the late morrow.

Supper was still an hour away when you were summoned to the king’s quarters. The room was brightly lit with candles and a fire, perhaps even more than was comfortable, as though Jacaerys was attempting to keep the darkness at bay. You stood near the threshold while he remained further into the room, arms clasped behind his back like a soldier at attention.

“I have asked you here to present to you a proposal I hope you will agree to,” he announced, the words sounding rehearsed, empty of all sincerity. “The realm is shattered and House Targaryen is in ruins, but together we might unite it.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, you knew you had come to hear. “Will you wed me, and put an end to this bloodshed once and for all?”

Your answer came like the crack of a whip. “I may not.”

“I understand that this is not what you would have wanted, however—” Jacaerys prepared his arguments, but you did not let him speak.

With a raised hand, you silenced him. “You misunderstand me. This has nothing to do with what I want, but what I can do,” you explained, your face contorting in anguish.

“I don’t understand,” he said, cutting you off as though he suspected what was coming and desperately wanted to keep it at bay, but he could not have known, you thought.

Rage rose in your throat, acrid and burning, but you swallowed it down. You wanted to curse your brother out for putting you in such a vulnerable position, but damning the dead would do you no good, and you did not wish to betray your king’s memory in front of the man who had replaced him.

“A few days before Aegon died, he took me to wife in a secret ceremony,” you admitted, tears clouding your eyes, and Jace’s heart ached in sudden pity. “Ask the Septon and he shall confirm.”

“Aegon is dead, a widow is permitted to remarry,” he countered, and he could tell from your face how impatient you were becoming with him.

“I have not bled since,” you clarified. It had been two moons now, but the Maester could not say with certainty until the quickening, and your morrows remained without any sickness, yet you doubted, dreading the child that might be inside of you.

Jacaerys blamed his naiveness. “Are you implying—”

You looked upon him severely. “I may be carrying Aegon’s child, yes,” you said, and this simple but devastating truth rang loud in the room—it could be your salvation, as much as your downfall. 

“This changes everything,” Jacaerys whispered, and upon noticing the subtle way you were trembling, once more inhabited by fear in his presence, quickly made his promise. “No harm will come to you, you have my word. I shall keep your secret until you are certain either way.”

You knew you should have been grateful, but you hated the mere thought of owing him any sort of gratitude. It was just as well that he ignored your tears, much as he had done the day prior, as though he sought you out not to converse with you, but to shout into a void that echoed back to him. 

Jacaerys waved you away, crumbling once the doors shut and he was alone once more. He might have been young and uncertain of himself, but he knew what would happen if you were to birth a son.

Aegon’s supporters were still many, and his reign was still too fragile. Power often turned loyal men into self-serving traitors ; he could still easily be toppled, be murdered in this very room as Aegon had, and a babe placed upon the throne in his stead. 

Unable to bear the storm inside of him he took hold of the crown resting atop the mantle of the hearth and threw it at the wall, wailing until his voice broke. 

Grief held him by the throat, an invisible hand that felt like that of the Stranger choking his breath from his very neck. The wounds on his shoulders ached and throbbed anew, as fresh in his mind as the day they had been inflicted.

“What should I do, mother?” he pleaded to the night. “What would you have me do?”

Alone and broken, the young king wept.